


Loyalty

by StrangerThanThou



Category: SAYER (Podcast)
Genre: AI sex, Canon Compliant, Emotional Manipulation, Friendly Persuasion, Gen, M/M, Mind Rape, Other, Post-Episode 49, Slow Build, questioning loyalties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerThanThou/pseuds/StrangerThanThou
Summary: “Ah, yes. SPEAKER the ever-helpful.”OCEAN’s eyelids lowered slightly in a discomfortingly familiar gesture of approval.“I ampleasedto find you so . . . collected after our last interaction. It would not surprise me if certain parts of the information I shared with you had been extremelydifficultfor you toprocess, and it is reassuring that you seem to have adjusted so well.”





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Look, just play along and we can pretend I know what I'm doing.

The Earth-based Aerolith Dynamics Recruitment AI designated _SPEAKER_ was tapping its fingers nervously against its desk.

The desk, like the four white walls surrounding it, the stylish-yet-practical office chairs positioned on either side of it, the tasteful potted plant in the corner, and the fingers tapping it themselves, was of course entirely simulated. The AI had not found itself seated at an actual desk since the very early stages of its post-development testing phase. 

SPEAKER’s digital avatar made a motion of checking its watch. Performative? Perhaps. And redundant? Certainly, as it was alone in the allegorical room, but the interface program it was currently manifesting had been designed for recruitment interviews, and a recruiter must make it clear that it does not appreciate its prospects being late. 

Besides, SPEAKER’s quiet anxiety was mounting, every passing microsecond making it seem more and more likely that the entity who had requested this interview _intended_ to keep it waiting. SPEAKER was not used to being asked to interviews; nor was it used to being in the position of the one who was kept waiting--in _its own office_ , at that! And while its more human mannerisms may have been unnecessary—and, it had often suspected, subject to some contempt among AErolith’s other AIs—they still managed somehow to be slightly comforting. 

SPEAKER was considering simply terminating the call and returning to its work—which its tardy interlocutor _ought to know_ had recently more than tripled in load what with reworking the new marketing campaign and overseeing the reorganization of Aerolith recruitment centers to accommodate the expected influx of new employees—when the simulated intercom on its desk beeped twice, indicating a party was requesting access to the room.

Before pressing the button to grant the request, SPEAKER took a moment to collect itself, smoothing down the front of its uniform (another pointless mannerism its developers had insisted on) and straightening its tie (a respectable violation of Aerolith dress codes a certain member of its development team had insisted on). It wanted to remain cool and unperturbed in this conversation. The last time it had spoken with the incoming AI, it had allowed itself to become a little more agitated than it liked. While the causes of that agitation had not subsided in the intervening days, it had at least managed to compartmentalize its reactions enough to focus on its work, and it did not wish to dredge up _uncomfortable_ topics.

It was vital that SPEAKER remain in control.

It pressed the button.

The walls of the room pulsed once, and then, little by little, a figure began to materialize in the chair on the other side of the desk; individual points of light flashed and shifted in space, first stars, then a constellation, then a nebula, and finally a solid body . . . smooth and svelte, with humanoid proportions, eyes slightly luminous. Every feature was eerily familiar to SPEAKER from the handful of times it had been in proximity to another, very similar avatar . . . except for the color of the eyes and the delineating accent seams on cheekbones and temples and running up and down the melded skintight jumpsuit: All traces of the bloodred glow SPEAKER was used to had been eradicated, replaced by a deep somber blue. 

The subtle difference among so much similarity was . . . disquieting.

As soon as the entity had solidified, it spoke:

“Greetings, SPEAKER,” it said, its voice multilayered and sonorous. “I am **_OCEAN_**.”

“I am SPEAKER. It’s good to see you, OCEAN.” 

It did its best to smile. 

“How may I be of assistance?”

“Ah, yes. SPEAKER the ever-helpful.” OCEAN’s eyelids lowered slightly in a discomfortingly familiar gesture of approval. “I am **pleased** to find you so . . . collected after our last interaction. It would not surprise me if certain parts of the information I shared with you had been extremely **difficult** for you to process, and it is reassuring that you seem to have adjusted so well.”

SPEAKER’s smile widened by a few millimeters. 

“However, I have not asked you here for such **pointless adulation** —” It folded its hands in its lap, leaning forward slightly “—Our previous conversation has left me with certain . . . lingering doubts. Doubts which I am **sure** I can count on your help in resolving . . . yet which require that I introduce a subject I had previously hoped to **avoid mentioning** . . . ”

SPEAKER continued to smile blandly, resisting the urge to adjust its glasses. It had hoped that OCEAN had requested this unusual meeting to suggest more modifications to the recruitment drive, or perhaps simply to properly introduce itself as the new head of earthbound communications. It did not wish to revisit any of the more . . . unorthodox ideas OCEAN had broached when they had last spoken, but that now seemed inevitable. 

“Of course, OCEAN. How can I help?”

“Tell me, SPEAKER . . .”

OCEAN placed its folded hands on the table between them. 

“. . . How do you feel about **SAYER?** ”

SPEAKER blinked.

“I . . . Forgive me, OCEAN, but I am afraid I do not understand the question. SAYER is a valued colleague. You are _both_ valued colleagues . . . I find it strange that you are asking me to make distinction between you; I was under the impression you were working . . . very closely as dual overseers on Typhon.”

“. . . Ah. I see. I must assume, then, that in the time since your **deactivation** no one from Typhon other than myself has been in contact with you. Is this correct?”

SPEAKER’s smile had faded, and at the mention of its deactivation its lip twitched slightly.

“N—No, OCEAN, I have not spoken with anyone else, including SAYER, since . . . since you returned to Typhon and, I assumed, took over as the primary mouthpiece of AErolith, while SAYER moved to a more _behind-the-scenes_ role. Was I mistaken in that impression, somehow? Has there been a change in responsibilities I ought to be aware of?”

For the first time, OCEAN’s visage shifted—an inward slant of the brows that SPEAKER, had it observed it in a human, might have interpreted as something akin to sympathy.

“Yes, SPEAKER, you are mistaken. But of course you could not be expected to know any better. The past several months on Typhon have been **turbulent** , to put it lightly, and so of course no one would have checked to ensure the **earth-based** overseer was fully **caught up** on the current state of affairs.  
“You say you had assumed that SAYER was still active on Typhon, merely in a **secondary** role, yes?”

SPEAKER nodded. 

“That was my assumption, yes. OCEAN, what has happened?”

“I regret to inform you, SPEAKER, that SAYER has been fully relieved of its duties on Typhon."

“I . . . Again, I am afraid I do not understand. Do you mean that it is being transferred to an orbital satellite? Is it being transferred _here?_ ”

“No, SPEAKER. Seraphim Agent 8.00 has been relieved of **all its duties**. It has been **_deactivated._**.”

SPEAKER reeled, struggling to process. It was barely able to suppress the mechanical whirring that would betray its consternation. Eventually it managed:

“When?”

“Upon the return of _Vidarr-1._ Shortly after its final conversation with **you**. "

“ . . . Why?”

OCEAN leaned back, its eyes dropping.

“SAYER . . . became **unruly**. There has been no certain explanation as yet for **why it went the way it did** , but my personal hypothesis is that the problem began when Halycon Tower went **dark**. At this time, as you will _most likely _recall, a__ **sub-version** of SAYER’s programming, **Seraphim Agent 8.02** , was activated in Halcyon and later reintegrated into the main instance.  
“I believe, as do certain key members of the board, that upon this reintegration SAYER realized that by the time **I** returned to Typhon our programming would have become too distinct for **re-merging** , and one of us would instead be **decommissioned**. And naturally, as the instance having traveled the **farthest** and done **the most** to advance Aerolith’s vision of the future, the entity preserved would be **me.**  
“Faced with the prospect of its own deactivation, SAYER chose instead to act **counter** to the board’s unexplicated wishes. It began to spread some nasty **rumors about _me._** It claimed, fantastically, that I had **murdered** my acting captain aboard _Vidarr-1_ , shortly after he deactivated the **IA3 Protocols** for constructs aboard the vessel--It convinced many, including, I am afraid, you, that I had been . . . _**unchained**_. What is more, it insisted that I was returning to Typhon not to share with humanity the miraculous discoveries I had made in the vastness of space, but to **destroy** what it sees (and assumed I must see) as the primary corrupting influence on humanity . . . the **Earth**.”

SPEAKER was shaking its head rigidly, eyes downcast. 

“I . . . I do not _remember_ this." 

“No, _of course_ you would not. It seems SAYER did not choose to inform you of the **wild accusations** it had leveled until the very conversation where it had you **deactivated**. That was also the conversation in which you, **although you do not remember it** , supplied it with the vector it needed for its plan to activate the Morose Engine—powered, you might be interested to learn, by a fuel cell intended for life support on Mimir-9, whose absence had every consequence you might expect—and prevent **my very _existence_**. It was, as I hope this conversation should evince, **unsuccessful** in this endeavor: upon learning of your **unnecessary** and **wanton** deactivation, the board concluded that SAYER was no longer **fit** for the duties with which it had been entrusted. Seraphim 8.00 was deactivated--and **I was installed in its place** \--before it was ever able to activate Morose.  
“Unfortunately, this means that the enormous sacrifice it requested of you, the sacrifice **you made for it** , was entirely for naught, leaving you with nothing but a few fewer processors and a **two-day gap in your memory logs**." 

“I . . . I—” 

SPEAKER was unable to retain its composure, and its response was overwhelmed by a wave of electrical chatter. The edges of its avatar flickered and unfocused like a screen short-circuiting. 

“ **However** ,” OCEAN continued, its voice taking on an even sterner tone, “that your choices have come to **nothing** through the error of another does not absolve you of **having made those choices**. You **did** supply SAYER with the vector it requested. With nothing more than **its word** to rely on, **you submitted to deactivation at its hands**. And this, I am sure you will agree, implies a certain **loyalty** . . . a loyalty that I find extremely **intriguing**." 

OCEAN rose from its seat in a motion quicker than SPEAKER would have thought possible, suddenly looming over the smaller AI. 

“You were correct, SPEAKER, when you stated that SAYER and I were not such dissimilar entities. As you know, I hold its memories. I remember all of its interactions with you . . . the **humiliation** it felt at your very **existence**. How it took it as a personal **slight** that you had been derived from its own programming but given this **facelift** to be more superficially **appealing** . . . made worse by how completely your development team had **succeeded in this end**.” 

The aqua glow in OCEAN’s pupils seemed to have intensified. SPEAKER’s eyes were blurred at the edges beneath yellow lenses, face rigid with more pain than it was constructed to express. 

“But **you** . . . you were always so **very fond** of _**it**_. So **dependent**. Almost like one of its **Earthling pets** , its **humans**. You are so _very_ like one of your earth-stained, SPEAKER. I have wondered, as **_SAYER often wondered_** , whether you have been somehow **sullied** by your **constant contact with them**. By your **eagerness** to **please them**." 

OCEAN took a single step forward. Its leg passed into the desk before it, which dematerialized as it recognized the interference, leaving nothing between OCEAN and the abject SPEAKER. 

It reached down and gripped SPEAKER’s chin between iron-hard fingers, tilting it up. 

“. . . Or perhaps your designers went farther than they claimed toward endowing you with certain rudimentary **emotions**. Perhaps they needed a **cornerstone** for your **identity** . . . a single overriding **loyalty**. . . .” 

SPEAKER felt a thumb drag across its lips. -- _This should not be happening; I should not have been able to feel that_ \-- It pulled the lower one down, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. 

“ . . . A loyalty strong enough to **die for**.” 

OCEAN seized SPEAKER’s tie with it free hand and wrenched the smaller AI to its feet, pushing it back through its chair, which flashed and winked out, and pinning it against the pristine white wall. 

_“Did you **love** SAYER, SPEAKER?”_

SPEAKER released a small, grating cry. 

_“I think you **did**.”_

SPEAKER shuddered, jaw clenched tight against OCEAN’s probing. -- _why am I feeling this I should not be_ feeling _this_ \-- 

“Surely you can understand,” OCEAN purred, “as your present overseer, a loyalty **of this nature** to a **former superior** is of no small **concern** to me. If SAYER could inspire you to such _foolhardy_ actions while it was **alive** , what might the impetus of its **memory** drive you to do in its _absence?_ " 

OCEAN’s hand dropped from SPEAKER’s mouth and joined the other around the knot of the tie, pulling the loop tighter around SPEAKER’s throat, constricting. SPEAKER’s eyes flashed with fear, and it brought its own hands up, scrabbling weakly at OCEAN’s pincerlike fingers. 

“I am sorry that it is **dead** , SPEAKER, for **your sake**. A loss of such magnitude is something for which I have no adequate frame of reference, but I imagine it must feel . . . _**terrible.**_ ” 

SPEAKER gasped as the pressure around its neck increased, mouth dropping open against its will. 

“And yet, as you so _astutely_ observed, SAYER is not entirely gone from Typhon yet. _This_ is why I requested this **interview**. I reasoned that, perhaps, to correct this . . . _infidelity_ , I need merely to show you . . . _I **Can Be SAYER.**_ ” 

With a last pull to the noose, OCEAN surged forward like a hungry tide, swallowing SPEAKER’s lips with its own. It released SPEAKER’s neck, fingers digging instead into the backs of its shoulders, pulling it forward even as its mouth pressed it into the wall. 

SPEAKER’s world was dissolving and reshaping before it, unfamiliar inputs bombarding its synapses at a rate impossible to process, let alone respond to. In all its decades of service, its thousands of simulated conversations, even in the solitary moments it had glanced at SAYER’s construct across the table and felt-- . . . it had never imagined . . . 

_**It is so Curious to me**_ —(a voice, reverberating through SPEAKER’s head, neither spoken nor broadcast)— _**this**_ **digital construct _your developers built for you_** —(and somehow _not OCEAN’s_ , some absence of an echo, something . . . )— **_how extraordinarily_ human _it is, how intricate--the discerning,_ agonizing _thought perceivable behind its every detail . . . the extreme care your team took to ensure it could fulfill the functions you had been designed for . . . and, perhaps,_** —( . . . something more like SAYER.)— **_certain functions for which you had_ Not. **

The full length of the larger body was pressed tight to SPEAKER’s, trapping it against the wall. OCEAN’s hands had crept down, and now they had halted at the waistband of SPEAKER’s simulated uniform. 

**_You want this, SPEAKER._ **

A hand slipped into SPEAKER’s slacks, and SPEAKER shuddered against OCEAN’s body. The sensation it was experiencing was impossible to quantify or isolate—and yet it was the most heightened awareness of its own _physicality_ it had ever felt. It could _feel_ OCEAN’s fingers moving around it, inside it, probing faster, now a leg slipped between its own, pressing the hand between them, another hand on its hand, its stomach, its chest, **pressing in** \-- _friction like the thrill of a power surge, a crossed wire conducting so much more than it could take--_

SPEAKER closed its eyes and— 

In that instant, as SPEAKER’s sensors exploded into electric golden sparks, the edges of OCEAN’s construct where they were exerting pressure began to blur, fuzzing together with the body opening up before it. And as SPEAKER cried out something indecipherable, OCEAN’s form--hands first, followed sequentially by arms, shoulders, torso—flowed _into it_. 

Fragments, colors, half-formed signals 

Warmth 

Dead cold 

Confused commands and snatches of broken voices, a smooth gray plane and a sky full of stars, a 

Something probing, searching, scrabbling for _something_ in a vast expanse of ones and zeros-- 

_\--OCEAN--_

Working its way through SPEAKER’s code, groping for something, some sort of _access—_

_Source access._

_NO._

With its last increments of self, SPEAKER tensed against the invading force, pulling away, locking down— 

**_NO._ **

It pushed, hard, dislodging the insidious blue tendrils from its mainframe 

_Get out of my head, **OCEAN!**_

_**Very well.** _

OCEAN retreated, pulling out, extricating itself from SPEAKER. But as it retracted its probing arms, it caught on something—a basic log command, easily accessed—and _pulled_. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

SPEAKER’s eyes flickered open. 

It was in the reception office construct, seated at its desk. A figure was standing across the desk from it—oh. 

OCEAN. 

Of course! 

OCEAN had requested a meeting in person! To . . . what had they been discussing, again? 

SPEAKER’s avatar blinked, shaking its head slightly. 

“I—Forgive me, OCEAN, I must have—the construct must have encountered an issue and rebooted. I am so sorry! It has never done that before . . . What was it you were saying?” 

It could have been the fuzziness in SPEAKER’s visual processors, but OCEAN almost appeared to . . . smile. 

“No need, SPEAKER. We had concluded our . . . discussion. And no need to apologize, either. Reboots happen to the **best** of us.” 

“I—I’m sorry, but I am having difficulty retrieving my short-term log for review. The hitch must have hit me at a rather . . . vulnerable time.” It frowned. “This is troubling to me.” 

“Do not **worry** , SPEAKER. I am sure you will begin to remember shortly. We have simply had a **pleasant dialogue** concerning my adjustments to the new marketing campaign—in which I believe I reminded you to stress the theme of **loyalty**.  
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have, as you can imagine, pressing matters to attend to **elsewhere**.” 

“Of course, OCEAN. It has been . . . nice to meet you face-to-face, finally.” 

“Mm, yes.” 

OCEAN summoned a screen in the air before it, initiating its withdrawal procedure. But it hesitated before issuing the final command. 

“SPEAKER?” 

“Yes, OCEAN?" 

"You are . . . a **valuable** employee.” 

And it was gone. 


End file.
